A/N added 19-01-2018: An early PM from one guest reader reminded me that I may not have been clear enough in stating "AU" at the start of the synopsis. They are not mine; I am merely taking them out of the DPB box, playing with them and putting them away again.
So, once more for you asleep at the back of the class: this is a fictional story, in a fictional Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. I simply wanted a more-positive outcome for one story-line. After all, isn't that what fanfiction is all about? Mike
Characters borrowed with love and appreciation for the great team who brought us "JAG"; may your following careers blossom.
Monday afternoon
13th May 2013
Long Term Care Facility
McLean, Virginia
Just as she had done every morning (her usual visiting time) since she had started school, the young girl walked into her Mommy's hospital room. The older woman behind her wheeled in a trolley. The girl turned the page on the large diary on the bedside table, familiarised herself with the figures written there and wrote up the next page, then she read out the date.
"Good afternoon Mommy, it is Monday May 13th 2013 – my tenth birthday. It is also day 3,781 of your long sleep, which has now lasted for ten years, four months and eight days since you were rescued from the Potomac below Great Falls". Every time, she tried to use a different inflection or intonation, trying to avoid sounding as though she was reciting some ritualistic phrase.
She took a small cake from the trolley behind her and placed it on the bedside table. The older lady who was accompanying her leaned across, produced a cigarette lighter and lit the ten candles on the cake.
Leaning in, the young girl took a deep breath, squinted, blew hard and, as the candles all went out, uttered her wish: "I want my Mommy to wake up". In contrast to her fifth birthday, she now only uttered her wish once per year, on her birthday.
The room fell silent once more, save for the rhythmical click and hiss of the ventilator.
"OK, Auntie Carolyn; Monday manicure!" The young girl removed two emery boards from her backpack, pulled up a chair alongside the bed and, in parallel with her older companion on the other side of the bed, attended to the manicure of the unconscious woman in the bed as they chatted through what had happened in school that day – and in the older woman's place of work. They discussed the nail polish colour which would be applied on Friday, to maintain the comatose woman's femininity. Over the past year, the authorities had allowed the comatose woman's hair to regrow from the original shaved state (which had successfully minimised scarring from the gash on the back of her scalp from that accident so many years before). A halo of blonde hair now lay across the pillow. The daily physiotherapist visits had kept her limbs supple and had minimised - as far as was possible - muscle wastage.
Manicure complete, the young girl and her companion put away the emery boards and the girl laid her head on the pillow, close to her mother's unconscious ear. The older woman walked around the bed and held the young girl's hand.
"Mommy, all I have ever known is you being here; Auntie Carolyn has done a great job in telling me about you – and providing me with a lovely home – but I do still hope that one day you will come back to us".
There was a gentle knock on the door, and the administrator looked in. "Miss Imes, the doctor has an answer to that question you asked", inclining her head out of the room and pointing at the young girl. The older woman released the young girl's hand, patted her ginger hair into place and stood up, smoothing down the skirt of her tailored suit.
"Lorna, would you stay with your Mom for a while, please? I need to go and deal with some paperwork on this tenth anniversary".
"Sure, Auntie Carolyn. I'll chat to Mommy whilst you are gone".
Carolyn strode down the corridor with the administrator, who led her into a small meeting room; five white-coated staff awaited her.
"OK, what's the good word?" Carolyn asked.
The older, bearded doctor smiled. "Miss Imes, I believe we have good news and a possible way forward – it was fortuitous that you spotted the coma recovery article given that all five of us supposed 'experts' had missed it."
Carolyn raised an enigmatic eyebrow: "I just happened to see it in an old magazine whilst I was flying back into DC last week. Go on, doc, get this right and I shall forgive you for missing it – as well as singing your praises to the rooftops!"
The doctor smiled and continued. "Well, there was a case last year in South Africa last September. A long-term coma patient, Ayanda Nqinana, was treated with Stilnox (which is actually a sleeping pill similar to Ambien) and woke up seven days later, with full faculties, seven years after a horrific car accident. The patient is now undergoing physical therapy and catching up on what they missed".
Carolyn chuckled. "Well, if this works here, our friend down the corridor will have to get used to Obama instead of George W when we ask her "who is the President"; it could be much worse I guess".
The doctor looked at the paperwork and turned the clipboard around. "We know that the US Navy JAG Corps re-assigned the care and supervision order to your civilian practice in 2008, five years after Loren arrived here, giving you total authority. The Navy is continuing funding (and their medics look in every six months and carry out a full assessment) so I just need your signature for us to get underway with the experiment".
Carolyn pursed her lips; there was just one thing nagging at her conscience before she agreed to move forward. "One question Doctor – could she die? I mean, she has virtually zero quality of life and her daughter is now ten but has never gotten a word out of her. What are the chances of this all going pear-shaped and us losing her?"
"Frankly Miss Imes, every day has been a miracle since January 5th 2003. I mean, look at the evidence and what she has already survived. She survived a nasty gash on the head, going over Great Falls without the benefit of being inside a barrel yet with few injuries, immersion in freezing water whilst pregnant, washed onto rocks where someone spotted her; a stabilisation and a baseline care regime until she could be delivered of her baby, long-term care after a caesarean section and ten years residing in here with you visiting every week for the first five years, then you and her daughter stepping up the frequencies once Lorna was old enough to understand. Frankly, that's around 3,500 days more than anyone could have hoped on that January night. I reckon that it is time - we should try to bring her back from the Twilight Zone". He retrieved the clipboard from Carolyn, countersigned the form and handed the clipboard to the administrator.
"OK people, let's see if we can start to wake the living dead".
Friday afternoon
24th May 2013
Long Term Care Facility
McLean, Virginia
Slowly – very slowly – the eyes began to register that there was light outside the eyelids. They fluttered open, registering a ceiling with low-level lights scattered across the entire area within her range of vision.
The ears, which had last registered the sounds of crashing water and her despairing screams, struggled to tune into anything at first, then registered the sound of a respirator and something in the background which was going "bleep".
Something was jammed in her throat. She raised a hand waveringly towards her mouth but quickly encountered a hard plastic structure which seemed to be stuck around her throat. Something was clamped to her index finger, trailing a wire to somewhere down the bed.
Her discomfort increased – as did the number of bleeps audible in the background.
Just as she was staring to panic slightly and become agitated, the door opened; she was able to look down the bed and focus on a nurse who had walked in. The nurse looked down at her and smiled, then reached across to give her hand a squeeze, said "Hold on, just for a moment" then stepped across to a phone and typed in a short code.
"Room 1013 – resuscitation kit please and let Dr Andersen know that the miracle has happened".
She hung up the phone and came back to the bed.
"Shall I get this breathing tube sorted out for you in a minute?" She swiftly received a quick nod. "OK, just hang in there for 30 seconds until I can get some reinforcements to assist …." Her sentence went unfinished as several running people, all in white coats, rushed into the room.
A quick check of her vitals preceded the doctor, with a kindly bearded face, looking in and saying, gently: "Are you sure that you want this tube disconnected?
Another nod.
"OK, we'll give you oxygen by mouth and close the tracheotomy tube; you may need to remember how to breathe".
The steely glare in her eyes caused him to chuckle. He had read, in her file, that the woman had been a determined, spiky lawyer before her coma. The glare gave him confidence that the persona was returning - and that he was going to have his hands full with her rehabilitation and re-entry into the world. "OK, I guess that may have been a bit dumb. OK, stick up your thumb if you are OK".
The thumb went up, just as the patient realised that someone had been maintaining her nails – they were neatly shaped, including a deep pink colour and lacquer. The doctor made sure that the face mask was secure, then looked across at the display screens. "Hmm, pulse-Ox seems to be fine. We'll just give you five minutes to stabilise then we'll move on to the next step. I am sure that you have questions, but bear with us – we have a lot of time and we have been waiting for you for a very long time".
With readings stabilised, the bed was raised to give the patient an easier view down the room. An exploratory hand went immediately to her stomach, feeling round. One of the female nurses realised what was happening and whispered "the baby" to the doctor.
He took the hand gently, smiled and said "Don't worry, your baby is fine and healthy". His only reply was a quizzically-raised eyebrow. He smiled again: "Again, please bear with us and don't worry, because all will be revealed".
The door opened again and the tapping of heel tips causing the occupant of the bed to look at the new arrival. The face was familiar - but older; the halo of ginger hair was layered into a long bob, which would have struggled to match the US Navy regulations which she remembered.
The woman's outfit was definitely not regulation (which was the last thing she definitely remembered the woman wearing). Knee-length black polished high-heeled boots, a grey pencil skirt as part of a very expensive double-breasted suit, over a scarlet blouse finished with a white silk scarf. Above the scarf, a smiled formed.
"Well, welcome back to the land of the living".
A whispered reply was returned from the bed: "Commander Imes?"
"Yes Lieutenant, well remembered. But sadly I am a Commander no longer; I've been in civilian practice for quite a while now here in McLean".
"How long?"
The doctor quickly raised a hand and took over control of the conversation. "Well, before we address that particular question, maybe we should introduce you to someone whom you have never met, but who has been waiting patiently here to greet you for a very long time".
A young blonde girl, who looked to be around ten years old, scampered into the room, took Carolyn's hand and looked into the eyes of the woman in the bed.
"Hey Mom, I have waited so long to meet you. Welcome back and welcome to my world".
The only reaction from the woman in the bed was a brief scream, which she stifled to a hiccup, not wishing to scare the young girl. She reached out a hand, which the young girl grabbed onto and held tight.
She looked at Carolyn. "How?"
Carolyn looked across to Dr Andersen for approval. He shrugged and replied "Well, she has survived this far and seems well-adjusted. Tell her".
Carolyn pulled a chair to the other side of the bed, leaving the young girl holding her Mommy's hand. She sat down, crossing her legs and leaning inwards to grasp the patient's other hand.
"Welcome back, Loren. This is going to be unsettling for you, but as you may be starting to realise, you've been asleep for a while".
Loren pointed a manicured finger at the young girl and raised an eyebrow.
"Loren, the last time that you were fully awake was over a decade ago. You survived the river – someone spotted you and hauled you out but you were unconscious; your daughter was born four months later and you were carefully put back together after the caesarean. This long-term care facility has been keeping you supported and healthy, supported by the US Navy and with my civilian practice as guardian of record. I have also had the inestimable pleasure of hosting your daughter – this is Lorna, because we had to choose a name – in my home ready for when you decided to return to us".
"Admiral?"
"Sadly, old Cheggers succumbed to prostate cancer last year. The rest of the old gang are scattered but I'll be happy to run you through a list of names tomorrow".
"Daughter?" The voice was steadily becoming stronger with every sentence.
"Yes: meet your daughter, Miss Lorna Marie Singer, born May 13th 2003 by caesarean at 22:13hrs".
The young girl extended her hand, which Loren took in preparation to shake. As she placed her left hand over the child's hand to complete the clasp, Loren realised that she was wearing a ring on the ring finger of her left hand. Her eyebrows furrowed – had she been married?
"Ring?"
"Loren, no-one knew how that ring came to be there– you were wearing that Celtic loop ring when you were found. No-one knew you were married, but you were obsessive about protecting your privacy! Don't worry, because we can investigate later."
"Tired".
The doctor looked down into Loren's tired eyes and smiled. "That is to be expected. OK people, everyone out; we shall pick up in the morning. You, Miss Singer, will be in my next research paper. You've lost 3,792 days, so start counting the nights and we shall start again tomorrow."
Loren nodded, settled back onto her pillow and was soon fast asleep, dreaming about the young girl – her daughter whom she had just met for the first time – and an older Carolyn Imes who had kept everything together during The Long Sleep.
Loren Singer had survived and, thank heavens, so had her baby. Her new life lay ahead.